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thef1diary · 9 months

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Don’t Go | C. Sainz

Summary: You and Carlos broke up over a month ago, however he doesn't want it to stay that way.

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship if you squint

word count: 2.2k

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

"You know what, that's it. We're done!" You yelled at your boyfriend who was blatantly ignoring you while getting dressed for a work event. You didn't even wait for a response from him, mainly because you knew you weren't going to get one. You weren't the type of person to create a scene but your anger got to you. Slamming the door to your shared apartment, you kept telling yourself that you'll be fine without him while tears streamed down you cheeks.

One month later:

It turned out that you were fine without him, mainly because you haven't seen him yet. Carlos had a triple header coming up when you broke up with him, so you knew that he would be too busy anyways which meant you weren't expecting a text or phone call after your dramatic—but much needed—exit from his apartment.

It obviously hurt to leave him, after all you were together for four years. But what hurt more was that he didn't even care that you left. Despite how hectic race weekends could be, you thought that you had at least some sort of importance in his life to at least deserve a phone call.

During that one month, you thought about the four years you spent together and wondered where it went wrong. Carlos was an amazing, loving boyfriend. You understood each other, respected each other, and you truly loved him.

There were moments when he would be extremely stressed out due to his racing results and you completely understood that. The thing was, he would come to you to talk about it all. He would lay his head against your chest and you would play with his hair while he was would tell you everything.

However, the Carlos you knew then was nothing like the one you broke up with. He was distant, cold, and made you feel like you didn't mean anything to him.

You were currently out with your friend at a club because she made it her mission to help you move on. Obviously that meant finding someone else for a night to help you forget about everything but you didn't want that. In fact, you two had been out for a few hours now but you were still completely sober. You were moving on. Not forgetting about it, but accepting the truth. Or at least you thought you were.

You watched as your friend was dancing freely, without a care in the world and you wished that you could be like her. The temptation of wanting to drink was strong, but you restrained yourself because you didn't want to wake up with a hangover. Plus, drinking wasn't your thing. What you needed right now was a cigarette and a lighter, both of the things already in your pocket.

You silently communicated with your friend when she looked at you, telling her that you are going to step out for a moment. You stood in the alleyway where you saw two people making out further away. Turning away from them, you lit a cigarette. Sure this habit was bad, but it could be a lot worse. You weren't a heavy smoker but you always had a pack on you, just in case.

The air was chilly which made the smoke you inhaled feel a lot better than it usually would. The warmth radiating through your body was inviting.

You heard the back door open but didn't face it, thinking the couple went back in. You smelt his cologne before you saw him, and instantly the memories rushed back. Although, you doubted that he knew it was you.

You were right, because he tapped your shoulder and asked for a cigarette. When you turned to face him, he looked quite surprised. He looked good, of course he did, there were rarely any bad days for him. His hair was slightly messy due to the wind outside, and his outfit was quite casual.

He said your name to bring back your attention towards him. You passed him the pack and he commented, "thought you stopped."

"I did." You simply said, implying that you started again after your breakup. You'd still carry a pack on you even though you never touched it, but now things were different.

He nodded, standing beside you while you puffed out smoke. "Thought you didn't smoke." You commented to which he replied, "I didn't."

You could read the implication as well, but you didn't think that he'd ever indulge in this bad habit. He would always tell you to stop, joking around that he will live longer than you.

You didn't like this silence, nor did you want to talk to him. You initially thought that he'd say something, anything. But this silence was deafening.

Throwing the remnants of the cigarette, you turned around to leave but you remembered something so you stopped, "I still have to pick up my stuff, text me a time you're free so I can come by."

The night that you left in anger, you didn't take your keys belonging to your shared apartment, which meant you had to wait for him to be home so you could pick up your stuff.

——

He followed through on your request and texted you a few hours after your last conversation, telling you to come by whenever because he'd be home for the week.

So here you were, standing in front of the main door to the apartment you once called yours. He opened it after a few knocks, and you had to take a deep breath before you entered. It's finally time to get through this, no matter how painful it may be.

The apartment was exactly the same as you left it, if not messier. "Sorry, I didn't really have the time to clean up." He told you, but you shrugged, "it's okay. I'm not going to be here for too long."

There was a awkward tension between you two, and you decided to act civilized, the least you could do to make your time spent here easier. "How was Spain?" You asked, knowing that his home race was the most recent one. You've always attended his home race, so it felt weird that you weren't there this time.

"It was good, got second place." He said, and you didn't have the guts to tell him that you watched the race, seeing him celebrate with his teammate who won. You also saw the trophy that was undoubtedly new, sitting on the shelf among his others.

If you two were together, you'd surely celebrate his race with other friends and family and even more when you two would've gotten home that night. But that's something that will never happen now.

Walking towards your bedroom, the same one you and Carlos shared, you started gathering your things. Either Carlos didn't want to remove your things or he didn't have the time to do so. For your peace of mind, you are hoping the second reason is true.

You had brought an empty suitcase with you, and while you were filling it up with your clothes, his voice made you pause, "don't go." He was leaning against the doorframe, watching you pack up all your stuff and then planning on leaving this apartment without any trace of your relationship behind.

"You should've said that a month ago," you were quick to respond without even looking up at him. Which is why you didn't see him walking closer and crouching down. He held your hand to stop you from folding your clothes, making you look at him.

"I should've said a lot more a month ago, but is too late to say it now?" He asked as he moved his hand up, placing it on your cheek.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his eyes. Mainly because it reminded you of the good times of your relationship, before everything went wrong.

Carlos took your lack of response to continue, "you know, I miss you" those words broke you out of your trance, "I miss the old you" you responded, making him realize the consequences to his actions.

You moved his hand away, returning back to the task at hand. "Can we please talk about this?" He asked, making you sigh. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think that's a good idea." You shook your head.

"Why not? It was a bit extreme no, you just walked out on me."

"Like I said, it's been a month. If you wanted to stop me or talk about it then you should've called me or at least make the effort to contact me. But you didn't, and that's exactly why we're over now." You tried to keep yourself in control, watching your tone. You didn't want to leave this apartment while arguing again.

"I was busy with the races you know that-" he tried to reason but you were quick to stop him. "And that's the problem Carlos, you were busy. You've gotten so busy nowadays that I barely see you. There have been times where I had to wait weeks before I could see you again, and even then all you're talking about is the next upcoming race."

He opened his mouth to say something but you didn't let him and continued, "I get it, it's your career, it's something you've wanted since you were a child. But if your career is that important for you that you can't even spend any time with me, then there's no point of a relationship." You concluded.

You could see when realization hit him, knowing that things won't be the same anymore. You would feel bad but he wasn't there to console you when you felt like that either. You almost scoffed at the idea of him thinking that everything between you could work out.

"You're really choosing to throw away the four years we spent together?"

"I really didn't want to. Trust me, I really, really didn't want this. But I am tired of being the only one holding our relationship together. In the past year, I have seen no efforts from your side." You were brutally honest with him, and despite his expressions saying otherwise, he needed to hear this.

He held your hands again, "don't do this."

"Carlos, why don't you understand. For lack of better words, I'm freeing you from this. You don't have to worry about calling, texting, or even seeing me." The words you were saying out loud were tearing your heart apart and you had no doubt that if Carlos still loves you, he'd feel the same.

"If you think you're not gonna see me or hear from me again, you're wrong. You will see me, and you will damn well hear from me again." Carlos' mood shifted.

"No-" you began but he cut you off. "You've said your part, now hear me out. If you think I stopped loving you for even a moment, you're wrong. And I know you still love me too. If you didn't, you would completely ignore me and not try to convince me why our break up is a good idea. Although it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself rather than me."

You opened your mouth but no words came out because you were speechless. "You think I didn't have a single thought about you while I was away? You're wrong. You're the only person I thought about, you occupied my mind every second of every day for the entire month."

"If you really want to try this whole breakup thing out, sure go ahead. Walk out of my life like you did a month ago, but this time I am not letting you go. If you think you are not going to see any effort from me, again sorry but you're wrong."

"I am so sorry for everything I've done or haven't done for the past year and truly I have no excuse for my actions. But you, darling, are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

You know what Carlos expects you to say. He wants you to forget about it all and go back to how you two were before. But at the same time, he is challenging you to leave, and you never backed down from a challenge before and you won't start now. As much as you love him, you need actions not words.

"You claim to love me right?" You ask and he nods.

You zip up your suitcase and stand up. "I am going to leave, and you will let me. You say that you'll prove it to me, so until I don't see you taking actions for your words, I am not coming back."

He still looks taken aback, clearly not expecting you to do this. But he settles his emotions and nods, "you can leave, but I'm not letting you go."

Carlos is also the type to accept the challenge, and he will do anything to earn your love again. After all, he never wanted to break up, in fact, he wanted to make you his wife. So if he has to work for that, he will.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1blr #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz angst #thef1diary fic

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diejager · 2 months

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Thinking about COD men putting their cigarettes out on my delicate skin 😵‍💫

Burn Cw: burn scars, DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, implied smut, burning, smoking, scarring, mean cod men, tell me if I missed any.

John likes his cigars, the thick-rimmed and earthy-scented cancer stick that smells more elegant and refine than the usual nicotine stick that Ghost smoked. He likes indulging in his office, cutting off the bottom and lighting it, a small flame licking his expensive brand, the wrapper turning to an ashen colour before he even smokes it. Lighting up a cigar is a whole art, to treat his precious sticks with the carefulness and respect it deserves. It helps him relax at night, to let the bliss overtake his mind, and the best thing about smoking was that he has the prettiest ashtray.

Kneeling between his legs, whining and whimpering while he worked on paperwork, signing off his signature on papers and reading through debriefs until the life of his cigar ended. When it does, he grips your jaw, forcing you closer to his chest and neck bared to put out his cigar, the end pushed against the scarred skin of your shoulder. He rarely burned the same place, around and overlapping at some ends, but never exactly over it. He kept to a side, a place promised to him alone. Sometimes he burns your thighs, the soft inner fat and stomach, giving him something to stare at when he ploughs you over his desk.

Ghost, much like Price, smokes often to relieve himself of the stress and tension, usually on the roof at night where he wouldn’t be bothered, but he occasionally enjoys a few smokes in his room by the window. He’s cheaper and less fussy than Price about what he smokes, content with cheap cigars he bought from the corner shop, a plastic box with white sticks that he can burn whenever he had the urge to smoke. Ghost isn’t picky, he’d take any brand he can get his hands on as long as it gives him the same nicotine bliss.

And when he smokes in his room, he likes having you cockwarm him, his tip pressed against your cervix, mewling and panting from the sheer size and girth of him. He doesn’t let you move and inch, ordering you to relax until he softens of he finished his cig, occasionally bucking his hips or growling out when you clench around him in a tight vice. He stubs his cigar on your thighs, his preferred area, where he could grip your hips and admire his mark on you, the red and pale scars that littered your hips and legs as a reminder of his possession on you. He might even admire the burn scars Price left on your shoulder and inner thighs.

Gaz doesn’t really smoke, he had one here and there, but unlike him, Soap does occasionally smoke, he steals a cig from Ghost’s pack. It’s a rare pleasure he indulges when Soap has time, one he got after he sneaked a smoke in the school bathroom because he wanted to look as cool as his cousin. It stuck after a while, but he doesn’t smoke as often as habitual smokers, one or two a month if he’s really stressed, but he usually deals with that through drinking or taking it out on the gym and shooting range.

He and Gaz sit together when Soap smoked, squeezing you between them and made to relax while they talk and watch the TV. He doesn’t always finish his stick, breathing out the smoke in your face or sharing it through a kiss, his tongue pushed down your throat before he passes you to Gaz for his turn. He’s happier, more jovial and reckless after a smoke, the nicotine easing the tension off his shoulder and that leaves him more handsy and eager. He puts out his cig - whether it was half way or fully done - near your collar, scars painting your flesh that trails up your shoulder and down your breast. His side had less burn scars than Price and Ghost’s, older and paler than the fresh ones.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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melanieph321 · 6 months

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Hey, can you do when Ruben finds out that you smoke (⁠^⁠^⁠)

I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!🤣🤣

Ruben Dias x Reader - Where There is Smoke

Enjoy!

You and Ruben had been together for two years, and on the surface, your relationship seemed perfect. You were young, in love, and successful in your respective careers. However, there was one thing that you kept hidden from Ruben, a secret that you had kept locked away, afraid of how he would react.

Every time you had a stressful day at work, you would indulge in you favorite guilty pleasure - smoking. You used to be an avid smoker, indulging at least a package of cigarettes a day. But after you and Ruben met your unhealthy lifestyle changed drastically. Ruben kept nothing unhealthy in the house, not even flavored gums. Naturally you felt a need to keep up with his compulsive lifestyle. Isn't that what a relationship was about, give and take? But on a stressful day like the one you had today, a puff from a cigarette was a must.

You left work thinking nothing of it. You had gotten away with somking many times before. After a long shower and a splash of perfume Ruben would suspect nothing when he returned home from training.

"Y/N, over here!"

You were about to cross the street from your office building when you spotted him, Ruben, leaning against his car.

"Ruben? What are you...?"

He looked handsome, dressed in a jacket and tie.

"I thought I'd suprise you." He said, holding the door open for you to get in.

"But..." Panic struck inside you. From where you were standing he couldn't possibly smell you, but if you jumped in the car with him. "You didn't need to pick me up, we live like two blocks away."

"I know." He smiled, insisiting that you get in the car with him. "I have a suprise for you."

"Shit." You cursed and walked towards the car. Ruben closed the door behind you and got into the drivers seat.

"How was your day?" He leaned forward, pecking your lips.

"Fine."

"Just fine?" He chuckled.

"Jupp."

Ruben's eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You asked.

"What's that smell?"

"What smell? I don't smell anything?"

"Yes. You smell like..." Ruben's eyes left the road as he leaned towards you. "Why do you smell like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the back of a night club?"

His choice of words made you chuckle.

"Y/N, seriously."

"Ruben, seriously."

"Why do you smell like you've been smoking cigarettes?" He said a serious expression on his face.

"Oh that?" You heart was in your throat. "You know how it is?"

He raised a brow. "I do?"

"Yes. Alot of my colleagues smoke during lunch break, it must have rubbed off on me."

A sigh of relief looked to escape Ruben's mouth and his next choice of words left you feeling even more guilty for lying to him.

"I don't want you hanging around your colleagues that smoke. Second hand cancer is real, you know that right."

"Right." You muttered.

The car ride resumed in silence. Ruben drove you to a nicer restaurant located in a exclusive part of the city. He told you that his teammates recommended it, that the chefs there were really good and the food a hundred procent organic, just how "both" of you liked it.

As you sat down to eat, you couldn't help but feel anxious. You knew that Ruben would eventually find out about your secret, but you were so unsure of how he would react. You tried to push the thought out of her mind and focus on your conversation, but you just couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

As you finished your meal, Ruben reached over and took your hand. "You're being really quiet tonight," he said, looking at you with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. You knew that you couldn't keep your secret hidden forever, and you knew that Ruben would eventually find out. You took a deep breath and decided to tell him the truth.

"There's something I need to tell you," you said, voice shaking. "Something I've been keeping from you."

Ruben looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. "What is it?"

You took another deep breath and let it out in a rush. "I've been lying to you."

"Okay, about what?" Ruben set down his knife and fork, indicating that you had his full attention.

"I know it's not healthy, and I know you wouldn't approve, but every time I have a stressful day at work, I enjoy a cigarette...or two." Or three, but it was better to ease him into the idea. "I tried quitting but failed. I've been doing it for months, and I've been hiding it from you."

Ruben looked at you, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Cigarettes?" he repeated, not really impressed by the fact. "Why would you keep that a secret from me?"

You shrugged, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. "I didn't want you to think less of me," You said, looking down at the hands resting in your lap. "I know it's not healthy, and I know you're always talking about how important it is to eat healthy and be healthy. I didn't want you to think that I wasn't taking care of myself."

Ruben reached out and took your hand, his expression softening. "Y/N, I love you, no matter what." he said, his voice filled with kindness. "Am I angry that you've kept this from me, yes. Do I think your habit is disgusting, yes. But never do I want you to think that I would judge you or think less of you just because our lifestyles aren't the same."

You looked up from your hands. "Really?"

Ruben brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it. "Really. Now let's enjoy this wonderful dinner."

You felt a wave of relief wash over her. You had been so afraid of Ruben's reaction, but his response was nothing like you had expected. He was understanding and kind, and not as judgmental as you thought. You leaned over and hugged him, feeling grateful for his love and support. Maybe he could help you beat your nasty habit, surely with Ruben's support you would give quitting another try. Even if it resulted in nothing, you knew that Ruben would still love you the same, and that's what a relationship was all about!

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

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mannuh0v · 2 months

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Masky/Tim Headcanons

hi hi, stopping by to say that I'm inspired and writing more and more! I hope you like it, sorry for any writing errors :)

My Headcanons Masky/Tim:

Appearance:

-This man is clearly tall, he is around 1.80 or 1.90 tall, he is not small like Toby but he is not bigger than Hoodie

-He and Hoodie are a great duo, they get along well because they know each other better. He doesn't like Toby very much, but he tries to respect him because he knows the boy's condition.

-"Where are my cigarettes?" This man has a smoking habit, are you mad? Smoke, Are you busy? Smoke, Are you observing something or someone? He smoked later. (Professional smoker your lungs ask for help)

-His voice is thick, rough and, but it can vary from person to person, never too gentle, just lower his voice to speak

-He obeys his leader at any cost, he always wants to be the favorite, not that he can't, he wants everything to be perfect, don't take it the wrong way, he knows when he's REALLY perfect

-He has a medium beard, and short straight black hair that is always well combed and never messy. He takes very good care of himself, after all, he really appreciates himself!

-Brown eyes, that's all he doesn't take off his mask much, maybe only around Hoodie but nothing more

-There are moles on the face and body, it is common but they are not attractive, well hidden after all

Well-being and Unwellness

-Bom Tom is not the same person as Masky so his tastes vary between different things, like one likes music the other doesn't like it much, he has two personalities within him, he has difficulty knowing what he likes or not.

-Being alone, something he really enjoys as he tends to not be good socially (None of these guys are after all)

-He doesn't like to share, he could be talking to Hoodie and Toby bothers him and he will get stressed or leave or probably have a fight

-Women, he doesn't know how to act well, he's never liked anyone, but if it happens it won't be long before a disappearance occurs, he knows how to make plans that won't fail for anything.

-Fairly though, he hates losing in basic things like board games

Masky: "You're stealing, aren't you?"

Toby: "No, to be honest I don't even know how to play this"

Work:

-He took the missions extremely seriously so you don't want to get in the way or else something will get ugly between you and Masky

-He doesn't always have a straight face, he knows how to smile, he just doesn't do it a lot

-He likes animals, but he wouldn't have a pet because he doesn't have time to take care of it, the pet would end up dead or something like that

-Good at disguises, if he needs to become a teacher he will do it and always do it perfectly so that the mission is completed without any hesitatio

-"Damn, what did they do to my car!"-he is jealous of anything that is his, including people, cars, objects or even pens

Well guys, that's it, sorry for any serious mistakes, I'm dying of sleep, I don't know if it's written correctly! :)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #masky marble hornets #tim masky #kate the chaser #jeff the killer #creepypasta fanart #jane the killer #nina hopkins #ticcy toby #hoodie marble hornets

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rafecameronsgun · 2 months

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heey so this is my very first post,i wanna knoww what you think,so please leave a comment 🙏🏻🤍

warnings: smoker!rafe,party, christian girl,dangerous rafe who ruinssss every part of reader

Always,always the bad boys…

Always, always, always, you hated boys like Rafe Cameron. The heartless bad boys. Always, always, always, it was the kind-hearted, devoted guys who swept you off your feet. The guys with the best grades in school, attending advanced math classes, constantly talking about science and how everything around us is a miraculous gift from God. The guys who ask if they can hold your hand. Always, always, always the good guys. The respectful, cute little nerds. Because you are exactly like that. You wear a bow in your hair like a little girl, if a skirt doesnt reach your knee, you put on tights... every day you read the Bible, go to church on Sundays... You only see the good in people, always helping everyone, and nothing irritates your nerves more than someone not appreciating education.

You were perfect. Until Rafe Cameron ruined you.

Your friend, Sophie, is celebrating her 18th birthday today, and she invited you to her birthday party. You ring the doorbell of a huge, white house with a gift in your hand. Loud music is playing inside the house, and through the window, you see rapidly changing colorful LED lights. You don't have time to turn back when you realize that this is not the kind of party you're used to.

"Hi there!" your friend opens the door and invites you in. The gift in your hand is quickly replaced by a red party cup. The loud music is pounding in your body, it scares you because you've never heard such loud music before. With trembling legs, still in shock, you cautiously venture further inside, walking along the wall, trying not to bump into any drunk youngsters. You don't even want to get into their line of sight. You want to disappear, but you can't be so rude to your friend. You can't leave her, you can't be so impolite.

Sophie grabs your arm and pulls you down onto a couch.

Your legs pressed together, you clutch your cup. Your stomach tightens to the size of a fist, your lungs betray you by not supplying oxygen to your bloodstream. You grip the cup tighter to hide your trembling hand. You want to get out of here, as soon as possible.

"Truth or dare?" a guy speaks in a deep, hoarse voice. You didn't think it was meant for you until Sophie nudges you. Shyly, you look up from your lap, and your gaze meets a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes. The owner is Rafe Cameron, but you don't know that yet. All you know is that he is very attractive. His massive body stretches out on the couch, lean muscles tense under the royal blue fabric of his shirt as he lights a cigarette. "Wh-what?" you ask in a soft, trembling voice. You look at Sophie, she raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for you to respond.

"Umm... dare?" you say, or maybe ask, you're not sure anymore, you just want to leave. The guy smirks satisfactorily, lets out a dark laugh, and moves up on the opposite couch. Leaning forward, barely 20 centimeters separate you, and then he says, "Sit on my lap!"

His jaw tightens, and you’re sure you saw a little flame flickering in his eyes as he waits for your reaction. He takes a drag from the cigarette, and you are still frozen in place. Sophie looks at you, raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for me to respond.

"And what if I don't?" you ask, now a bit indignant.

"Then smoke this cigarette!" he holds the substance towards you. In the Bible, it says not to do drugs. And not to fornicate. You don't know which is the heavier sin in the eyes of God, but before you can decide, Sophie pushes you into his laps

"Have some fun, Sleeping Beauty!" she laughs at you.

You freeze. Your legs on either side of the guy, your eyes pop open, your hand accidentally lands on his chest. You feel his loud heartbeat under your palm, his warm muscles as he leans back. He casually tosses his arn onto the back of the couch, using one arm to lift the harmful substance to his mouth. And then, in the next moment, you feel something that's the cherry on top of the cake. Something hard, very hard, is trying to penetrate the gap between your legs through your pants. Your eyes almost pop out of your head, you pull your hips back, and somewhere on his thigh, you sit down. He takes a big drag of the cigarette, then blows it into your face.You cough, withdrawing. The smoke fills your face, and you try to move away. He grabs you with one arm, lifting you back to where you were. Then he looks at you with an intense, intimidating look, and you find yourself gazing at the bulge in his pants...

He chuckles softly as he pulls you forward with one hand. You let out a soft gasp when you recognize the shape beneath you, and you'd rather sink into the ground in shame for finding this appealing.

"What's wrong, scared of a dick?" he laughs loudly, and the way he looks at you... he finds you pathetic. And so do you find yourself pathetic. You'd leap off him, but then he lifts you up with one arm, standing up with you, there's a height difference of at least 40 centimeters between you. And he love it. Taking another drag from his cigarette, you remain frozen. He leans down, until his face is about two fingers away from yours. You can't move, and you certainly don't want to. Rafe Cameron fascinates you. The golden chain around his neck sways as he leans down, his ocean blue eyes and his buzzcut... perfectly fitting the "dangerous bad boy" vibe.

He raises his hand to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb. Placing his palm on your cheek, his thumb separates your two lips, and what happens next... every cell in your body trembles.

He exhales the smoke into your mouth, and now you also feel the foul, tobacco smell in your own mouth. You start to cough, and he smiles with a menacing look, causing your knees to almost buckle.

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, then secures his strong arms around your thin, toned waist.

"I... I..." you can't answer because, the next moment, he squeezes both sides of your waist, sending shivers through your veins. You find yourself looking at his pants. You need to know if he like this situation as much as you do. And yes, he ENORMOUSLY love it.

After this, you became Rafe Cameron's mission. Every time you meet, every time he follows you, and every time he sneaks through your window at 4am in the morning to finger you, he corrupts you a bit more. And you find yourself realizing that, in just a few weeks, you've committed more sins in his presence than in your entire life. He intoxicates you at parties, demands you to smoke from his cigarette... in just a few weeks, he completely ruined you. And you fucking love him for it.

#outer banks #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron smut #smut #daddy's good girl #i love him #coquette #little tease

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rea-grimm · 2 months

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Sleep protector Sanji

You once stood at the top. You were one of the best chefs in the world and even a respected food critic. You were all that until a jealous colleague deliberately poisoned you.

He was always jealous of you and your talent in the kitchen, but you thought you were friends despite that. But you couldn't be more wrong about him.

When they tried to poison you, you lost all taste and thus the joy of eating. Even as a cook, you were at your wit's end, as you couldn't even test the food and especially you didn't want to rely on someone else. You didn't trust anyone else anymore.

You've also suffered from nightmares ever since, mostly about food. Thanks to them, you often screamed from sleep and woke up exhausted. This also affected your love relationship and the boyfriend who stood by you until then left you. Just like everyone else you met.

You tried therapy, meditation, sleeping pills, coffee, pills to stay awake, but nothing worked. You felt like your life ended the day you were poisoned.

One day, the doorbell rang. It was strange because you weren't expecting any visitors and no mail. You walked over to the door and opened it.

No one was there, but something was pinching your nose. It kind of reminded you of how your nose stung from the cigarette smoke your ex-boyfriend smoked.

When you didn't see anyone anywhere, you looked around and noticed a small package, wrapped like a gift. It was placed right at your feet, you were surprised you didn't accidentally step on it.

You took the box and noticed that there was a small note tied to the ribbon. You took the box inside and closed the door. You placed the box on the table and untied the black ribbon.

When you opened the letter, you found out that it was a gift from one of your fans. You were moved by his letter, but at the same time, a certain paranoia lived in you that this could be another attempt on your life.

Despite that, you decided to find out what was in the box. You removed the maroon paper from it and opened the lid. The box was lined with light blue paper, on which lay a light teddy bear in a black jacket and blue shirt.

The most striking feature seemed to be his curly eyebrows. You thought it was cute. You took it out and you had to admit that it was made of very pleasant material. In the end, you decided to keep him.

That turned out to be the right thing to do as your nightmares slowly faded away. You were always saved from them by a young man in the same suit as your teddy bear with blond hair and curly eyebrows.

He rescued you from your nightmare and took you to some safe place where he prepared something good for you to eat. It was wonderful to feel the taste of food again in a dream. However, it was even more disappointing to wake up back to a reality where this was not possible.

Although you got rid of one problem, another one appeared. As dreams became more pleasant than reality, you began to have an aversion to real food more often. As much as you missed the taste of the delicious food from your dreams, you became more and more disappointed with real food and refused to eat it.

But you knew very well that it was a problem. Although you didn't want to end up with an eating disorder, you were worried that you were slowly getting closer to it.

It often happened that when you woke up in the morning, you smelled a stench in your room that reminded you of cigarette smoke. You even found a few cigarette butts in a small ashtray that you had no idea you had because you were a non-smoker.

Slowly, hopelessness began to take hold of you again, and even though your dreams were wonderful and represented a wonderful escape, they left you torn.

On the one hand, you were looking forward to the dreams of an excellent chef. Although sometimes he reminded you more of a prince on a white horse than a cook.

On the other hand, you didn't want to return to reality every morning, when almost all the good things from the dream had left.

You were slowly starting to feel sad even in your dreams and the waiter didn't miss it either. While he was preparing food for you in the dream, he was trying to find out what was bothering you.

However, it was just a dream and you didn't want to deal with your problems in it. Instead, you somehow talked it out and helped him a little in the kitchen. You had no idea how much you missed it.

As your mood didn’t improve, you received an envelope from the waiter in your last dream.

"What is it? ” you asked in surprise before opening it. Inside was a brochure with an invitation to the restaurant.

“Sweet Mellorine. It bothers me to see you sad, and I would like to invite you to the restaurant," he got down on one knee as if asking for your hand in marriage.

You were moved and speechless. Why, of all the boys, did you have to fall in love with the one from your dreams?

You finally agreed and the waiter was happy about it. He gently took your hand and kissed it from your fingers to your arm. Something like this has never happened here in your life.

When you woke up in the morning, you thought what a strange and pleasant dream it was. You were even more surprised when you noticed the envelope on the bedside table.

You hesitantly reached for it and opened it. Inside was the same invitation to the restaurant you dreamed about. You didn't understand. How could you be here if it was just a dream?

At first, you were hesitant to go there. However, when you replayed the dream in your head, you decided to give it a try.

You put on better clothes, adjusted yourself and ordered a taxi that took you to the front of the restaurant. Just the way the restaurant looked at you from the outside was unique and unusual.

You walked in and showed the invitation to the front desk. The receptionist took it from you, looking at it for a moment before he excused himself for a moment and left. When he came back, he apologized for the wait and took you to the table.

You passed other tables on your way and felt everyone else's eyes watching you. This hasn't happened to you in a long time. You haven't been to a restaurant for a long time either.

When you were seated, you were given a menu and set about choosing your food. You heard others whispering your name and you had mixed feelings about it. After all, you weren't the same person you were before. Instead, you focused on choosing food. They certainly didn't have a bad choice here.

"Have you already chosen?" said a familiar voice. You turned to the blond waiter who reminded you a lot of your dream. But how would that be possible? Surely it was just a coincidence.

"Not yet, somehow I can't decide," you smiled at him.

“I can offer you a special menu that is much better than all the other bluffs they serve here,” he offered you with a confident smile.

“Then I'll have it,” you replied, handing the menu back to him. The waiter took it from you and left for the kitchen with a satisfied smile.

He then brought you meal after meal. Aperitif, appetizer, soup, several smaller main courses and ended everything with a delicious dessert. At first, you hesitantly took a bite on your fork, afraid to taste it.

You finally popped a bite into your mouth and your tongue burst with such new flavours that it stunned you. For a moment you were completely taken aback. It was so good that you were at a loss for words and had tears in your eyes.

You wiped your eyes as you started eating with new joy. Each dish was more delicious than the first. You had the impression that you had never eaten anything better.

After the meal, the blond waiter came to see if he could offer you anything else. You had more than enough and wanted to pay. As soon as you mentioned it, he started to convince you that it was all on account of the company.

When you got home, you were in a good mood from the restaurant and wanted to write them a positive review. You sat down at the computer and started looking for a restaurant.

However, no matter how hard you searched, you couldn't find even a mention of Baratie anywhere. You slowly got the impression that the restaurant didn't even exist.

The very next day, you went to look at the address, but to your dismay, there was no restaurant there. There was no building at all. Now you were even more interested in where you had been for the meal.

But you couldn't find out anything. You tried to put it behind you, but you still couldn't forget it. It was an unforgettable experience when you regained your appetite even when you were awake. Appetite for food and life.

Since visiting Baratie, you also stopped dreaming about the waiter with a cigarette and wavy eyebrows. You didn't have nightmares anymore, but your dreams weren't that interesting anymore.

One morning you woke up to an apartment smelling of freshly prepared food. You sat down sleepily on the bed, feeling like you were still half asleep. Otherwise, you couldn't even imagine it.

You got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen where you heard the sounds of cooking. That someone would break into your house? But then why would he cook in your kitchen? Such thoughts ran through your mind.

You walked up to the kitchen door and carefully peeked inside. A blond man in a blue shirt stood facing you by the stove. You immediately knew who it was from your dreams and the restaurant.

"Sanji?" you suddenly remembered his name, which he repeated to you many times in your dreams. However, you always forget him in the morning. Sanji turned around, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, Mellorine, you are finally awake. Did you dream about something amazing?” he asked you as he served the finished omelette on a plate. You mumbled something in agreement that you slept well and moved closer to him.

"I'm glad to hear that," he breathed. “I'm glad those annoying nightmares have finally given up. Now that I don't have to waste time with them, I can prepare something for you to eat," he said casually and placed the plate on the table.

"Am I still dreaming?" you asked in awe as it was too good to be true.

"What do you mean?" he asked confused, walking over to you and taking your hands.

"The fact that I dreamed about all of this..." you had no idea how to explain it without getting involved in it yourself.

"This is not a dream," he said when he finally understood what you were getting at. "Dreams aren't the only thing that needs protecting. Besides, I'll be much better at helping you here than there," he said seriously and you started to melt in his blue eyes for a moment when he was so close to you.

During breakfast, he tried to explain to you what he was doing to help you and relieve you of your problems. You were stunned by this, but it made sense. You just still haven't figured out how a little teddy bear turned into such a handsome man.

When you said this out loud to him, he turned red and his nose started to bleed. You immediately rushed to him full of worry. You were worried he'd have a heart attack.

After a while, Sanji calmed down and you wanted to thank him for everything he did for you. You felt like words couldn't express what all of this meant to you, so you kissed him lightly on the lips.

The unexpected gesture made the chef stop before he wrapped his arms around you and started showering you with lots of quick kisses and compliments. And even though he still had blood on his nose, you could tell by the hearts in his eyes that he was in seventh heaven.

Sanji Masterlist

Sleep Protector Masterlist

#one piece #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sleep protector #sleep protector sanji #teddy bear #sanji #Monster Piece

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ch0wen · 1 year

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Could you please do a Tangerine x reader (who's his gf) where the two go out on a date and she gets catcalled by some men... so, what do you think Tan's reaction to his girlfriend being catcalled would be?🤔

Request: Catcalling - Tangerine x Fem!reader

warnings: mention of sexual content if you blink really fast

In the reflection of the restaurant's window, Tangerine smoothes out the misplaced hairs in his mustache. Unexpectedly, the sounds of bustling chatter abruptly cut off as fast as it broke out. This gave a sign that someone has also exited the building. Approaching footsteps indicate that a person is joining him outside. At this unspoken but designated smoker's corner.

He assesses the figure behind him through the reflection. Taking note that it was a balding man who was fumbling through his pockets for a lighter with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Tangerine gives himself a final once-over before grabbing for his own lighter.

“Here, mate," with a thrust out of his hand to the other man. The recipient had already turned around when Tangerine spoke up. He let out a grateful hum while he lit his cigarette before returning it with a mumble of 'thanks.'

They both say nothing more. Breathing in their respective fumes. Watching their smoke mingle and then fade as one into the air.

Baldy has the bright idea to break the shared silence.

“Hey wait. You’re the one that walked in with the red dress. Jesus,” he dragged out. “What’s in that dress is a damn looker. You are lucky, brother.”

Tangerine gives a firm nod with a tight-lipped smile. He can agree that the new dress hugs you in all the right places. But he’s not keen on this sleazy man tossing out creepy compliments about you.

“I am certainly lucky. Speaking of, I should probably get back to her then.”

Without another word, he’s stubbing his cigarette off on a lamppost and striding back in to find your table.

“Have I told you yet that you look beautiful tonight?”

A genuinely warm smile graced his normally frowning lips as he gazes at you. You couldn't help but smile in return, as you grab for his hand once he was settled in his seat.

“Only eight times. Not as many as I was hoping for. But numbers one through three were during that quickie in the bathroom, so I’m not really complaining.”

He gently squeezes your hand as you share a laugh.

You both share a few fleeting minutes of flirtatious smiles and whispered compliments before the mood shifts for the evening.

Baldy breezes by your table. Tangerine immediately notices the way his eyes scan over your toned, bare legs as he passes. And much to his dismay, the man joins a woman seated at another table within earshot.

Your moments of romance proceed to be followed by scenarios that make Tangerine apprehensive.

Baldy's wife, based on the pathetically sized ring on her left finger, smooches his cheek while making her way to the washrooms. The movement had Tangerine lose focus on your story for a beat. He tunes in to the activity since it's in his line of vision.

Baldy's eyes are lovingly following his wife's trail but then stop short on you. A look that was once filled with admiration for his wife now reflects nothing but hunger. He'd devour you if he could.

"You have an amazing pair of legs, honey. What I'd do to know how they'd feel wrapped around my head." He says over his beer glass before taking a swig.

He looks to Tangerine next. A chuckle playing in the crinkling of his eyes. Indicating that he thought that comment would get you hot and bothered, while your man would just sit there and wholeheartedly agree with this stranger. He continues,

"You really won the damn jackpot."

Baldy really cannot read the room or the grimace on your face. His idea of cat-calling has you shifting in your seat to try to cover up. Preventing him from stealing another look. Your obvious discomfort paired with Baldy's ignorance has Tangerine fuming.

In a blink, he is scuffing his chair back. Approaching the half-unoccupied table. His hand landing on Baldy’s shoulder with his back to you. He bends forward with a lowly murmur in his ear.

“As I said. I undoubtedly agree that she’s lovely. Nevertheless, I don’t appreciate you speaking about her like she’s an object. She doesn't find your remarks complimentary, brother."

Tangerine gives him a harsh squeeze then yanks the chair opposite him to sit down.

“To be frank, if I hear you say one more thing about her, I will gouge your eyes out and fix them to this fucking table with a fork.”

He playfully acts like he is deeply considering another idea before fixing him with a glare. His hand grips a fork. That is the only physical sign of his rising anger.

“Or I can take one of your slimy eyes into the kitchen, have the chef À la mode that shit, and serve it on a God damn platter to the lovely woman you’re dining with. And when she requests for the chef to come out and tell her his secret, I don’t think she’ll enjoy finding out that her main course was her husband’s eyeball. And it would be all because you can’t enjoy what’s right in front of you. Instead, you have been eating up my partner with your looks."

As he sat back in the chair, a grin spreads across his face. Giving Baldy an eerie juxtaposition to his threatening words.

"If you disrespect me or her again by talking like that. I'll break you. Are we understood?"

Baldy is the color of the cheap pearls which draped his wife's wrinkly neck. Tangerine takes his silence as a confirmation. Harshly patting his cheek before sauntering back over to your table.

You have a fixed scowl on your face while Tangerine bears a shit-eating grin. Knowing he stirred up trouble with you by terrorizing a stranger. You couldn't help but overhear the entire exchange.

Tangerine was not worried about dealing with your irritation. Not only does he believe his reaction to the catcalling was justified and that angry sex is arguably the best version of sex.

But tonight has confirmed that he can be very persuasive. He’ll be sure to ask for your forgiveness between your legs.

#requests #asks #tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train 2022 #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson

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777bae · 1 year

Text

── Sure thing

Scenarios with jude to the lyrics <3

PAIRING… Jude Bellingham x fem!reader | Genre… angst, slight fluff | WC… 2.6k

Love you like a brother

You were childhood best friends, growing up alongside each other, he treated you as his own sibling. How you managed to catch feelings from his treatment is questionable however, love was still love and so whether he treated you as a sibling or as a lover, you would continuously choose to love him.

Treat you like a friend

There’s always going to be the questionable stage in which you are confused on whether you are dating or not. You believed he was still treating you as a friend and so continued to live in denial of your feelings.

Respect you like a lover

He believed that he was expressing his undying love for you, treating you in the manner he was. The confusion continued on, both unsure on confessing your feelings for each other.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Singing in the kitchen together, hand in hand, as you sway to each other’s beats, feeling as if it were you against the world, never once breaking eye contact as your cheesy smiles spoke more than what could ever be said.

You could bet that, never gotta sweat that

Having rapping competitions to see who could rap the fastest, however they always ended up with you laughing at Jude’s choice of clothes, his cap always being backwards as his moves always became animated when he began.

If you be the cash

Everyone believed you were in it for the money, the constant belittling leading to a decline in your mental health and so Jude ensured that he would love you endlessly. You agreed, confirming that your love for him was worth more than a simple piece of paper.

I'll be the rubber band

Jude refused to leave your side. Much to your ‘displeasure’ (although you secretly enjoyed the attention). He always needed to be attached to you in some way, whether it be his arm around your waist, or his hand clasping yours, you could always be sure that he would be by your side, ready to take on anything.

You be the match

You were a very emotional person, by perhaps every emotion. Anger, love, passion, sadness, happiness. You knew how to express your feelings however whenever you did so, said emotion would consume you, causing what others would call as ‘outbursts’. Whenever these situations would occur Jude would immediately be by your side, his arms wrapped around you as you would release your feelings. His comforting words always calmed you down as you would continue to remain in place, enjoying the short moments in which you could feel this comfort.

I will be a fuse, boom

The two of you were both known as being quite mischievous and so whenever one of you was up to no good, it was almost a guarantee that the other was in on it as well. You were both into pranks, constantly devising the perfect plan, and so leading to them being perfectly executed as your laughter would merge after every execution, those moments forever being your favourites.

Painter baby, you could be the muse

Art was your strong suit and so whenever you finished a project, you would be bombarded with constant praise, even without asking for his input. This would help boost your ego as you grew more confident with every new piece of media.

I'm the reporter baby, you could be the news

Constantly mimicking his post game interviews from the moment he arrives home. He would always act like he hates it when he secretly loves it as it confirms that you spent your time watching him match.

'Cause you're the cigarette and I'm the smoker

Him never being able to speak for himself and always needing you to help express himself, a reassuring hug from you to him always lead him to gain confidence, to which he would use as he would begin to express his opinion in tough situations.

We raise a bet, cause you're the joker

Playing card games with each other, both of you refusing to admit that you lost due to your competitiveness and so leading to a mini argument. Eventually, one of you would crumble from guilt and so the day would end with you apologising to each other and ending up on the sofa cuddling.

Checked off, you are a chalk

You always have to remind him of chores and other activities he needed to do, almost as if you were his personal agent as every so often you would get annoyed at his forgetfulness.

And I can be the blackboard

Jude would notice how annoyed you would get at having to constantly remind him of things and so he began to try and get better. He would start writing down small activities you mentioned needed to be done and would do them for you, surprising you as you would thank him continuously, apologising for how annoyed you used to get.

You could be the talk

Between the two of you, you were the easiest to rile up. Easily growing angry and annoyed over such trivial matters. Many mentioned how you were the fiesty one and so it was easily balanced between the both of you.

And I could be the walk

Though Jude was the calmer one, that didn’t mean he couldn’t act up when he wanted to. Whenever you were hurt because of comments made about your relationship, he would always grow angry. The constant hate directed towards you always caused an angry post to appear on his social media, showing that he in fact could also get riled up.

Even when the sky comes falling

Whenever it would start to rain whilst you were both out, he would always hold up an umbrella above you, ensuring that you wouldn’t get wet and despite your constant persistence, he refused to put it over him. Eventually, this leads to you cuddling up to him to ensure that he would also be covered.

Even when the sun don't shine

On a cold winter's night you would snuggle up with each other on the sofa, a warm blanket placed on top of the two of you as you would watch a movie together, however you would always end up falling asleep in Jude’s comfort as he would quickly following, the both of you ending up sleeping there for the night.

I got faith in you and I

Everyone said that you were perfect for each other, even from the day you first met you were inseparable and so time could only tell before your young love would begin to blossom.

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Walking hand in hand wherever you go, even if you or him find it embarrassing in the moment you both still appreciate the small expressions of love.

Even when we're down to the wire baby

Whenever your relationship goes into a rough patch, you both still know you love each other, even after the terrible words exchanged in your arguments. You both just knew that you would need a few days away from one another and yet both your hearts still yearned for each other.

Even when it's do or die

Jude was your ride or die. You wouldn’t know what you’d be doing without him. Most likely because you’ve known him since when you can first remember but that doesn’t change the fact that he has been here with you all this time, and will continue to be up until your last moments.

We could do it baby, simple and plain

You both knew you didn’t need to overexert yourselves to make the other happy and so, instead of extravagant date nights every date, you would both decide to spend it in each other's arms, cooking together, or just playing games. You could keep it simple and plain and still be able to enjoy yourselves.

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Knowing that he is your past, present and future, and planning out your lives together, spending and cherishing every moment together.

You could bet that, never gotta sweat that

Playing monopoly together and arguing with each other on whether you stole from the bank (which you did). One of you practically sweating as the other began to enter the last moments of the game.

Be the lover, I'll be the fighter baby

Calming him down after another one of his angry posts about the hate you receive, telling him that it truly doesn’t matter as long as the two of you will continue to love each other.

If I'm the blunt, you could be the lighter babe

He is always there to back you up whenever you get into fights, allowing you to have the freedom of choosing your actions, whether they would have consequences or not, and just being there in case it escalates.

Fire it up

Secretly cheering you on when you finally stand up for yourself, seeing you constantly vulnerable had caused him to grow angry and seeing you finally stop the attack made him proud.

Writer baby, you could be the quote

Helping him write down small speeches and preparing him for important interviews, all while messing about and writing down random inspirational quotes, placing them all around your house for him to see.

If I'm the lyric baby, you could be the note, record that

Singing together once again, this time pretending it was your own concert as you held ‘mics’ up and began to practically scream the lyrics.

Saint I'm a sinner, prize I'm a winner and it's you

Him inviting you onto the pitch after his team won a trophy, immediately hugging you as you could feel the excitement bubbling off of you. After taking photos with the team he would arrive in front of you, placing the medal onto you as you pulled him into a tight hug.

What did I do to deserve that

Always returning back to one another and expressing the feelings you had been bottling up between you, allowing you to both grow and understand each other more.

Paper baby, I'll be the pen

You both do an artsy date at home where you try to teach him how to draw, by recreating one of your many works. He eventually gives up and decides to draw you in his own way, making you look like an animated character as that drawing was instantly hung on your wall once it was completed.

Say that I'm the one, cause you are a ten

Him always saying that you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and whenever placed in front of a woman who you would consider was prettier than you, his longing eyes would still search for you within a crowd.

Even when the sky comes falling

Dancing in the rain, lightning causing his features to be brought out beautifully as you ignored the fact that the two of you would most likely catch a cold.

Even when the sun don't shine

Staying inside on a foggy day, just staying in bed longer than needed and cuddling up to one another, enjoying the comfort you both brought to each other.

I got faith in you and I

Him promising that he would spend his future with him, in a small house with as many kids as you want, including the dog that you’d always dreamed of having.

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Bringing you small gifts on important days, knowing that you’d feel guilty if he brought expensive ones as you can not afford such gifts for him.

Even when we're down to the wire baby

Going through new experiences together and admitting that you would both like to in the future as well.

Even when it's do or die

Him happily standing up for you when an interviewer crosses the line, always ensuring that he will be on your side.

We could do it baby, simple and plain

Wondering whether you were right for him as you once again felt as if you weren’t good enough as you didn’t have the expensive items other footballers girlfriends had.

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Him ensuring that no matter how much money you had, he would love you endlessly.

This love between you and I is simple as pie baby

Knowing that you could always rely on him being there for you whenever needs be, just like how you were for him, and realising how simple life could be, not needing everything to be over the top.

It's such a sure thing (such a sure thing)

Knowing that he will eventually propose and that you don’t need to stress about when he would, accepting that he would do it when he feels ready.

Ooh it such a sure thing (such a sure thing)

Him reciting your words after getting a small lecture about a small issue, a huge smile on his face as he treasured moments like this.

Even when the sky comes falling

Trying to find the perfect place to spend date night as it was your turn to decide and him eventually admitting that he prefers spending them at home with you.

Even when the sun don't shine

You always go to his games whenever possible and no matter the weather, eventually ending up in him scolding you for coming out in that weather before pulling you into a tight hug, his way of ‘protecting’ you from the kpotential illnesses’.

I got faith in you and I

Him finally proposing to you in the comfort of your own home, the sheer amount of happiness you felt in that moment cannot even be expressed through words.

So put your pretty little hand in mine

The loving kiss he gave you after you accepted his ring, his hand on your cheek as you both smiled lightly, realising that you were now experiencing what you had planned.

Even when we're down to the wire baby

Planning out your wedding together whilst still joking around with each other, your laughter filling the room as it reminds you of the old times.

Even when it's do or die

Him sneaking in a few comments about your future together and the future children you would have, sneakily wrapping an arm around your waist whilst wiggling his eyebrows as you would just giggle at his mischievousness.

We could do it baby, simple and plain

Stressing about planning for the wedding, your easily emotional mood being caught on by Jude as he tells you that whether the wedding is simple or extravagant, nothing would ever stop his love for you.

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Going out dress shopping with your friends and then finding the perfect dress, them confirming that he would love it so much.

Love you like a brother

Memories of the childhood you spent with Jude causing your smile to grow as you remember how naïve you were as a child to not have confessed your love for him sooner.

Treat you like a friend

Sneaking out the night before your wedding to see each other one last time, and beginning to reminisce about the years you had spent with him, finally admitting that you had loved him way longer before he confessed.

Respect you like a lover

You walking down the aisle, your beautiful white dress matching the veil that cascaded across your features, making you unable to see the loving looks you would receive from Jude.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Singing together in your home after experiencing the most loving and vulnerable moments of your lives together, your wedding day.

#jakeswonie #jakeswonie works #football #football imagine #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #bellingham x reader #football fluff #borussia dortmund #Spotify

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velvetcloxds · 1 month

Text

ENSUE | E. M

word count: 2k

warning: can confidently say that this is officially the last part of this series, it's been an emotional rollercoaster for sure, reader gets injured, shitty men in the workplace

summary: you manage to injure yourself after a confrontation with your father and the new manager and eddie finds you hiding in his bedroom instead of your usual spot, seems you've got a lot to talk about now that the dust has settled

previous chapter | series masterlist

You were tired of knowing better, it was only getting you into trouble, every chance it got. You knew better with Eddie, but you still got hurt. You knew better than the new manager your father had hired to spite you, you still got shouted at in front of all the staff. You knew better than your father, knew he couldn’t do any of this on his own, and still ended up on the other end of one of his humbling temper tantrums. Somewhere between Mr. Harrington telling you to know your place and your father calling you an inferior girl who has reached the end of her usefulness, you moved a little too close to your father’s cigarette and burned your arm. You weren’t even sure where you were going when you started rushing away, weren’t sure if you were crying out of anger or out of pain, you’d never been all that good with either, maybe it was both.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was so worried when he heard about what happened, but he was almost sprinting by the time he got to his room, he’d searched everywhere and this was a last resort, you knew where it was and it was always open so maybe, just maybe you’d gone there in your rush to get away from the office, hide the fact that you were crying- still, he couldn’t help the surprise on his face when he opened the door and actually found you. You were standing sort of aimlessly by his mirror, wiping at your eyes, of course, that would be your focus.

It was odd seeing you, seeing you in his space was something wholly different, it had been weeks since you found him talking to Billy, weeks since he’d been able to look at you without you looking away or excusing yourself. He hadn’t spoken more than a quick greeting or an entirely professional question since then and he was both hugely freaked out and somewhat grateful that he’d get the opportunity to do so now, all things considered.

“Y/n?” you tensed at his voice, considered it carefully before turning towards him, you wondered why he looked so worried, you’d been shouted at many times before since the two of you started working together. The only difference was that men tended to stop when he was with you, like he was some sort of buffer, they didn’t respect you any more than they did when he wasn’t there, they just respected him too much to show it in front of him. “Robin called me, said she saw you running from the office clutching your arm,” you nodded, didn’t react to him walking towards you, he meant to be slow, really he knew he should’ve been but you met his gaze, he noted then that he’d never seen you cry before- you’d been upset, hurt, insulted, and you’d been close but you’d always catch yourself.

“They turned our spot into a storage room,” you explained, hand stupidly moving to cover the burn mark on your arm, hoping he wouldn’t mention it, wouldn’t take note of it- he did, he had to stop himself from making a scene about it. “And there were people everywhere, I just needed to clear my head, I didn’t know where else to go-“

“It’s fine,” there was a silent conversation paired with his interruption, a subtle nod to your hand to have it move, an outstretched hand begging you to let him see, and the gentlest fingers that grazed around the skin to scope how bad it was. “Cigarette burn?” he had to keep his mind at bay, he knew the smokers of the office and had borrowed a cigarette from most of them, you only ever got into direct contact with one, you knew that too.

“It was an accident, I was trying to explain myself, I lost my temper,” he couldn’t picture that, you losing your temper, even when he gave you good reason to do so, you didn’t, it made his stomach turn, his blood boil, if he was in the room with you, your dad probably wouldn’t have gotten close enough to shout at you let alone hurt you. “I’m sorry, I’m the one who told you to leave me alone and now I just show up when I need someone,” you scoffed, tried to take your arm back but he wouldn’t allow that, would reprimand you soon enough for apologizing for something so silly. It was the oddest thing when you looked at him, you’d convinced yourself you despised him, didn’t know him, but the way his eyes drifted over your face and his skin melted against yours and his curls fell forward when he tilted his head to examine your arm, you were sure he cared, it felt like he did, really.

“We should get this cleaned up,” he sighed and you didn’t object, didn’t fight him when he guided you to the bathroom by hand, didn’t make any attempt to take your hand back as he rummaged the cupboard for supplies- it was comfort in its simplest form, you thought, how familiar it felt to be seen by him, cared for like you’d deprived yourself of something you didn’t know you’d gotten used to even if it wasn’t genuine.

He had you sit on the closed toilet seat, and kneeled in front of you as he set everything aside and your mind was racing, there was a part of you that considered maybe you’d overreacted, accidents happen, people get upset if it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else, it had just been you for about a month now and if anything you were tired of being the punching bag while trying to help. You watched Eddie work and were reminded with much annoyance how pretty he was, how despite what you heard him talking about and what he’d done, he was one of the few people who you felt comfortable being weak around, soft, you didn’t have to think- it was a feeling, not logic, logic had proved otherwise- but the fact stood, you were tired of thinking.

“Thank you, Eddie,” he hummed, satisfied with the job he’d done, it probably wasn’t wise, closing a burn wound, but you’d be going home soon, and he didn’t think you’d want anyone to question it, it wasn’t as bad as the discoloration looked but knowing you, you’d be embarrassed by it still.

“You got to open that as soon as you get home, okay, don’t leave it closed,” you’d never heard his voice quite that timid and gentle, which speaks volumes considering he always spoke to you softly, kindly. “I think I have one of your concealer sticks in one of my jackets if you want to fix your makeup but-“ he interrupted himself, paused when he realized he’d brought a hand to your cheek, brushed a thumb over a stray trail of a tear, he half expected you to jump back, not lean into the touch, certainly not close your eyes to savor it. “But I don’t think you need to,” he continued, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating in rhythm, not really, it was pounding in his ears and it didn’t sound right, only got louder as you slid your fingers around his wrist. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” it was a loaded sentence, you’d learned that much about being around him so long, it meant he was sorry for having to see you like this, it meant he was sorry for everything he’d done and not done with Billy, for being one of the men who’d let you down.

“I should hate you,” you noted, opened your eyes, only to find his staring back at you, they held an openness to them you hadn’t seen in a while, you realized you should’ve noticed the lack thereof sooner, maybe you did, maybe you ignored it. “But you’re such a bastard, Eddie Munson, even when you’ve given me every reason to be utterly appalled by you, you’re still the first person I wanted to see when I felt like this.”

“You should hate me,” he agreed, and you were happy he didn’t try and take his hand back, letting your joined fingers fall to your lap, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, rings cold against your warm skin, a perfect piece of symbolism. “I wanted to be the first person to find you like this, make sure you’re okay.”

“What a mess we are- there was chaos when we didn’t stay away from each other and chaos when we did, it’s like were doomed.”

“Chaos tends to follow me around, should’ve warned you about that,” he had that look again, that paled face of regret that he’d been wearing for days now, it took everything in you not to hug it away then and it took everything in you not to hug it away now. “I should’ve tried harder to tell you that this wasn’t all a lie, it wasn’t all pretend, it’s much easier to care for you than it is not to.”

“Some of it felt real.”

“Because it was, sweetheart, honest, I screwed up either way, and we both know even if I didn’t, there was no sort of happy ending here, but it wasn’t all for them, I genuinely was soft for you,” the admission was paired with a tint of rose to his cheeks and though he tried to tilt his head and hide it with his curls, it made your heart soar, you hadn’t gone mad, your heart wasn’t betraying you, it wasn’t all a ploy.

“I get it, you know, what you guys did to my dad- I don’t think my mom deserves it, and let’s face it, I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t forced to be here too- but maybe I’d have been far less upset with you if things were different.”

“Always wishing for things to be different,” he scoffed, you knew he couldn’t comment on what you’d said, mostly because as much loathing as you had for your father, you didn’t wish ruin upon your family, you were angry and maybe if he wasn’t in the picture you’d be less angry, if he wasn’t in the picture Eddie would just be a questionable guy who made it hard to hate him despite knowing that your should.

“I think I’m going to write some heartbreaking stories about you, Eddie,” you noted, and he moved quickly to make room when you slid down to kneel in front of him. “Think it’s going to take me forever to stop thinking about you.”

“Don’t I know it,” it was scary how quickly you caved, how easy it was to let him pull you into his chest, hold you against him like it wasn’t going against everything you promised yourself and your mother. It was intoxicating how safe it felt between his arms, how much his leather jacket smelt like home and comfort and good things he didn’t represent. You hated every second of it, wrapped your arms around his waist, breathed him in, allowed him to place a fleeting kiss on the top of your head and you wished the moment would endure forever. “Will you make me good in your stories?” he whispered when he walked you to his door, he was planning on sneaking out first, drawing attention away from the room long enough to slip out, eager hand latched onto your wrist.

“Course I will, you’re good, Eddie, you’re just a little lost right now.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

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liminsendhelp · 26 days

Text

Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming.

tags and warns are the same as in the last post, srry, I don't have time to make it more civilized and readable.

Enjoy

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Since you're an adult with an immense ego lying in the depths of the ocean, you accept the challenge.

You can be quite social. Even with animals.

Before lunch (you noticed this back in the first week) there was always smoke coming from one of the cubbyholes.

The recruits smoked there quietly, after training, as if they really believed no one knew about it.

You left your dressing gown in the office, appearing to Dr Moon in all your immediate black-as-fuck guise.

So you were less conspicuous for sneaking up on smokers after all.

"Got a cigarette, soldiers?"

The one on duty last night flinches. He snorts when he sees your nonchalant face. His aggressive friend scowls.

"Smoke your own."

"No lighter either?"

"Are you stupid?"

"No, you're confusing me with someone else."

Your face is the dark smooth water of the Bermuda Triangle. He's lost and uncomprehending looking at you.

There's a rustle of some kind off to the side. You take out a packet of cigarettes and shove one of them into his hand.

You light the other one defiantly with your 'not working' lighter.

"Stop pouting. Maybe I liked you and you're chasing me away."

"Oh, don't give me that fucking shit."

"Why? Maybe I have a fetish for stuffed cabbage."

"A what?" Raises an eyebrow at the aggressive soldier. Your cigarette has already travelled to his pocket.

"It's mincemeat in a lettuce leaf." Smirks the third soldier.

Conversation. It's a thing people have been bugging you about for years.

You're an expert at talking if you don't like someone.

So half an hour later, you're sitting with the recruits at the same table while they laugh off your insults in their direction.

They feel unhumbled just because every name-calling from you is incredibly stupid. If someone tries to take offence or starts responding to you, it looks so stupid that the aggression immediately ends with a new wave of laughter.

"What the fuck do you need science for? You're a clown."

"I decided not to take your job. I could never resist natural talent."

He's immediately repelled by the next one.

"You know what they say about people who talk too much? That they're good targets with legs."

"I'm really glad you're in such demand."

"You'll get one of us to beat you to death."

"Taking after your stepfather, Chad?"

"If I were you, I'd-"

"If I were you, I'd keep my mouth shut all day long. You have such a pretty mouth when you don't talk, baby."

Someone whistles under your ear. Quietly, so as not to attract any more attention than they already do. The last of the defeated soldiers blushes, seems about to respond, but is already driven back. The next ones lunge forward, waiting for their portion of shit on their heads.

It's so strange how they're all annoyed and fascinated by you at the same time. Little rats in a cramped cage around a shabby cat.

"What do you think of my mouth?"

"Capacious. Next."

"And with those lips you suck your father's dick?"

"I don't think that would be possible."

"He's dead? That's a shame."

"Didn't give me anything but heartburn, either." You tapped yourself on your stomach, grinning. "But I did feel better after I came home and snacked on your mum. Say hi, son."

After five minutes, everything subsides. One of the soldiers with a name you were too lazy to remember gently claps you on the shoulder, ducking down.

"The lions are in the enclosure."

You crane your neck in the direction everyone has abruptly turned away from.

"Why the reaction?"

"Do you realise who this is?"

"A very successful and respected unit. But you're fighting puppies here too, aren't you?"

You're pinched and turned towards the plates.

"They might not do anything to you, but we had an entire squad run from breakfast to dinner for one fucker staring at Ghost. Not that we weren't used to that, but the ones who collapsed from overexertion were fired."

Yeah. The taciturn cretin has a sense of humour. Plus point for him, minus five for the soldier who clearly isn't telling the whole story.

"Couldn't agree more with his methods. Especially since it worked. But 'not staring' and acting the way you do are different things."

He rocks and eats in silence. You turn around again and catch Price's gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. He nods.

You get up from your seat. Five seconds later, you slam the bars of the cage shut. A dray cat in an enclosure with lions.

"You eat the delinquents?"

Ghost watches you the same way he did the entire time you walked to their table - blank and black eyes. The question was asked into the air to probe the atmosphere at the table. You suspected that each of them was not far removed from their subordinates in their sense of humour. To insult them directly you could not, unfortunately.

Instead of the expected ignoring, at most a chuckle from Price, you get a greasy Manchester accent in your ears. The cloth mask moves in time with the movement of his mouth.

Skull. Really? You hadn't noticed.

Is he goth or emo?

"No. Just killing."

"What do you do with the teeth?"

"We pull them out and store them until we run out of bullets."

"Can I have a couple of dozen? Preferably rotten ones with holes in them. They make good necklaces."

Wow, they're all so much the same in this eagerness to fight even as a joke.

You don't notice yourself leaning closer to him in response.

"Are you a dentist?"

"I'm a scientist. But I've dissected a couple of corpses. Would you like to be a test subject?"

"Do I get a lab coat?"

"Yes, you can even sign it. You know how to do that, don't you?"

"How trivial. And this is a man of science?"

You have identical grins on your faces. You pull back the same way, in unison.

"John Soap McTavish." He holds out his hand.

"Your boss's boss in five years." You extend your hand in return.

He snorts, but accepts that wording. You shake hands, trying to break each other's palms. At some point, you stop moving your hands, just squeezing your fingers on each other's hands. Your chapped skin turns white from the force you exerted, your face remaining calm. You stare into Soap's eyes with the certainty of your failure, making you angrier and darker than you were a moment before.

His palms are larger, and he tries to take advantage of this by pressing on the pain point with his thumb. But you're already there, pressing your thumb into his muscle. Soap doesn't react. His grip on your limb has cut off the blood supply, you feel a slight numbness, but you're stubborn. You can't back down.

"Will you stop?" Price's low, husky voice almost makes you listen. Fucking shame.

"She's first."

You snicker. Nope, fuck no.

Abruptly pulling his palm towards you, you lean in with your tongue out. Before you can touch his skin, Soap releases you with a nervous chuckle. Thankful that he has a modicum of squeamishness in him. You're sure the same Ghost would let you lick his hand all you want.

Would have let me lick Price?

What.

As Soap wipes non-existent saliva from his palm on his trouser leg, a fourth man begins to speak.

"You're rabid, aren't you?" His hair is dark and curly, his eyes like a cow's, understanding. He examines you, rough, dishevelled. You probably do smell wild. But he nods anyway and holds out his hand to you. "Gas."

Your eyebrow flicks upwards. Before you ask which Autobot his father slept with, he gives you the full version of the name.

"Kyle, Garrick."

You nod and release his hand after a brief handshake. Soap looks indignant. I wonder how much more indignant he'd be if you hadn't restrained your urge to tell Gaz how handsome he is by the dog's standards.

"Ghost." Burps Manchester across from you.

"I know."

That's it. There's no more greeting to be had.

You look around at them all, forcing yourself to let go of all your clamps and shyness. You're equal. Not in the front, not in the back. On the side. They're just the biggest piece of meat you've ever tried to bite off.

"Analysing mental and physical changes in groups of individuals involved in combat. Draft title of my future article. Depending on the amount of information, the study period may include data from 2 to 15 years. If you are consenting, you will only be required to be interviewed on agreed questions about your well-being." Access to medical records is not their concern. They have no voting rights here, and you hope they realise that.

"Agreed to by whom?"

"First with my superiors, then with yours. Then…" You look meaningfully in Price's direction. "Supervisory concurrence. Your status protects you from my scientific hunger. Naturally, everything is anonymous. If this work ever sees the light of day, which I hope it does, it will be in as abridged and polished a state as possible."

"Then why?"

"Developing more effective rehabilitation programmes. Strengthening the psychological care staff for active military personnel. That's just as an example."

"No. Why would you do that?"

You stare into the black hole of his eyes. Lie or half-tell? All at once.

"I don't like losing opportunities that lie in front of my nose. You have interesting brains, and I want to understand them. Violence is in human nature, but you touch the most perverse part of it almost daily."

"The truth."

You tilt your head to the side. Interrupted, rebuked for lying. Truthful, but, it doesn't take away from your irritation. It's like your face is sharpening. A truly insulted cat.

"Okay. I got knocked over with the first sentence. With no explanation."

"Subject?"

"Rape."

There's no reaction at the table. At that moment, the silence around you, the obvious observation of dozens of pairs of eyes, becomes even more obvious and louder. You're genuinely surprised. No negativity, no derision.

"I realised the odds of consent were slim. But I couldn't help but check. Such 'projects' - if they have the good fortune to be realised in any way - are always investigations, private. Uncovered on the spot, destroyed on the spot. And I wanted, still want, to gather information, opinions, confessions. In an anonymous form. Bottom line, I'd put it in front of them," You look up meaningfully for a second, "like the charred cross of Christ, for edification." You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to drop your shoulders and exhale. Your tone doesn't rise for a second, but the mask of biting friendliness has come off completely. Two pairs of equally empty eyes. You spoke even quieter. "And I can't be penalised for taking the initiative, I'm in a safer position. As someone outside the system."

Ghost hummed.

"You want to do one study under the guise of another?"

"One would be enough with my head. But, yes, if I can."

You feel questioning waves of looks from Pryce, sitting to your left. You can't call his surprise ostentatious, but there are signs in the way his breathing becomes a little quieter, more focused, the way his head tilts.

A captain should know his soldiers. And he did, so he didn't expect any interest from Ghost. You can't disagree.

And you can't help but push.

"So?"

Ghost nods slowly. Brilliant.

In addition to you winning it, bonus goes to the other two. If you get the hierarchy right, the smaller tanks will follow those three in a string of smaller tanks.

pls write a review, tell me how bad this is and why I should stop writing. love kisses. punch heart like you've wanted to punch your dad for a long time

#limin #price x reader #price #john price #tf 141 #captain price #captain john price

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nothorses · 8 months

Note

one thing i have with cigarette smokers is like, bodily autonomy is a thing and addition is a thing and i get it, but those frameworks don't account for the fact that cigarette smoke is a health hazard for the people around the smoker. "your right to swing your fist ends where my face begins" etc

I don't wanna be put in a position where I have to defend smoking as, like, a Good And Correct thing to do- but I think yall need to re-examine your understanding of consent and bodily autonomy as it relates to other people & how they exist in shared spaces.

I get headaches from cigarette smoke! I do not like it either! It makes me feel ill, it's aggravating to be around regardless, I am simply not a fan even before it's at a point where I am experiencing impacts on my health.

But like. People also get to smoke, if they want to. They need to do that in a basically considerate way, but they get to make that choice for themselves.

There are designated smoking areas for a reason; I think this is a good thing, and smokers should be respectful about that. I also think those areas, as much as they are considerate of non-smokers, should be accessible and near enough that people who smoke can do so without having to go to great pains about it.

I don't think people should smoke indoors or in cars, personally. It's bad for you, it's bad for anyone else there, it's bad for kids, it's bad for pets, and it's bad for the building (the sticky yellow tabacco build-up on the walls alone.... jfc) but if you live alone and the home is yours to fuck up, like, that's up to you.

If you live in a little neighborhood in a relatively rural area, your best option is to smoke outside, in your yard or on your porch. On a sunny morning, dude, I get it. I wanna be out there, too. My bedroom window is positioned toward their yard such that sometimes, the wind blows his smoke fucking fifty feet across his yard and into our space. It's not hurting me, and he's making the best decision he can, to the best of my understanding. I bitch and moan and rage and wish death in an abstract, non-consequential way, and I close my windows, and I go on about my day.

If it was really a problem, I could just talk to him about it. I'm choosing to bitch and rage because it's not enough of an issue for me to want to talk to him about it.

If someone's doing some shit you don't like in a shared space, you can choose to look away, plug your ears, listen to some music, and/or leave. If it's hurting or endangering you, talk to them about it. If it's enough of a nuisance that you wanna talk to them about it, do that, but don't throw a fit if they don't want to work with you on it; that's a negotiation, not a demand you get to enforce.

This is important to understand because people are also making this argument about people being gay or trans in public ("we don't consent to seeing that"), or wearing leather-strappy, revealing, or gender non-conforming clothing, or walking their girlfriends on leashes, and like. Y'all need to cool off. A whiff of cigarette smoke from someone else's yard is not a punch to the face any more than two men holding hands in your line of sight at the park is.

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batterygarden · 2 years

Text

Hayakawa household smoking weed hcs

cw: marijuana use & blood mention

It was supposed to be a one time thing. Aki bought a single pre-rolled blunt. From some guy he met in public safety division two. For himself. He was hoping to relax and unwind on his evening off—it really didn’t seem like too much to ask.

The issue was Power. She and Denji were already home playing video games by the time Aki was returning from work, and she smelled something off about him before his elevator even reached their floor.

“Top Knot, maybe your weak human senses haven’t noticed, but whatever skunk devil you fought today left you abnormally stinky.”

Denji glared at her for her nerve to comment on someone else’s body odor while Aki swore under his breath—he’d forgotten he couldn’t hide the scent from power. He was left no choice but to explain what he was up to, using words like no big deal and just to take the edge off while power stopped paying attention in favor of Meowy.

Denji did pay attention though, and to Aki’s dismay, his eyes had lit up the more he explained.

“Sounds good t’me. But… can I have a hit too?”

One thing led to another and they were all sitting on the balcony, Power perched on Denji’s lap while Aki laid some ground rules.

“Do not slobber all over the wrapping. Be respectful. And Power, you only get one puff.”

“Unfair! I am the most experienced smoker of us all!! One puny puff is nothing to me!”

Denji flicked her forehead. “When’d you become an experienced smoker! And Even if we don’t count cigarettes Aki beats you by a landslide.”

Aki had tried to look intimidating. “Power. One. Puff.”

“Okay, okay. I understand. One mere weed hit is all I shall take.”

Aki narrowed his eyes but sat knee to knee with Denji and fished his lighter from his pocket. He had Denji shield him from wind while he sparked the joint. Then he was inhaling deep while staring off into the distance, before passing the joint to Denji.

Denji could never afford the luxury of drugs before, but he didn’t want the opportunity to go to waste, so he tried to take as big a hit as Aki. He was left hacking up a lung while Power giggled, patting his back.

“‘Tis only natural to cough when you’re still a novice. Now watch as an expert shows you how it’s done.”

Power plucked the cigar from Denji’s fingers and held it to her lips.

“Just a little one. Just a little puff, Power,” Aki reminded. Then Power was inhaling, sucking harder than necessary before the blunt was pulled from her mouth by Aki. She held the smoke in her lungs for a moment then exhaled long and smooth, directly into Aki’s face. No coughs.

Denji raised his brows while Aki furrowed his. “Woah. Power, you-“

She then leaned over the balcony railing and threw up onto the downstairs neighbor’s patio.

“Ugh!” “I told you not to do it there Power!”

“Poison!! Poisonous air!”

Aki handed her a water bottle before sighing and leaning back in his chair. He took another big pull from the blunt and stared at her while he exhaled downwards. “Power, I explained earlier. Weed isn’t good for you nor does it taste nice. It’s to get you high.”

She returned to Denji’s lap and smushed her forehead into his neck, poking him with her horns. Denji rolled his eyes but rubbed her back a little.

Him and Aki took a few more hits before snubbing out the blunt in an ashtray for later.

To Aki’s complete surprise, chaos did not immediately ensue. They all sat on the couch playing Call of Duty Zombies with red eyes, laughing at how each other's characters moved on the screen.

Power was as touchy as normal, though she got a little more aggressive with it—pulling Denji’s hair when he died in the game, kicking Aki’s shin when he didn’t get enough kills. Her voice also seemed to get a little more high pitched.

Aki turned from a 3.5 star chef to a 5 star one, cooking what Denji and Power insisted was the best fried rice he’d ever made. He also did some regrettable online shopping for new house decor later in the evening.

Denji got a bit stupider, forgetting how to use the microwave properly and repeatedly putting on then taking off his shoes for no reason. He finished the night by asking Aki to pierce his ears for him. (It ended with blood all over the bathroom and very short-lived, uneven holes in Denji’s earlobes)

The three had such a fun evening stoned that it became the first of many.

They have a smoking ritual now, a tradition of sorts.

Aki will supply the weed (on his own dime), and Denji and Power will have to kiss up to him real nice before he’s ready to smoke because he says he won’t share if they’re being too rowdy (he always ends up sharing regardless).

They then convene on the balcony, huddling together under an old quilt, referred to as the weed blanket, where they spark a joint and light a candle. It’s understood that the candle has no effect against the weed smell, but it provides a comforting ambience to the occasion.

Aki gets the first hit, then Denji, then Power. Power is traditionally limited to one hit, but on a few occasions Aki and Denji have been too high to notice her sneaking a second.

The world is their oyster once the joint is finished. They go on giggly walks to the convenience store, watch movies, sing karaoke. They eat ice-cream, popcorn, cereal, and sometimes mix all three! They can achieve anything they put their minds to when given a blunt to share <3

Don’t perceive me if this is cringe <3

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midnightlitterateur · 4 months

Text

Rugan likes the puss

Pairing - Rugan/ oc m/f

Summary - Rugan tries to be a gentleman but Leah Keene has other ideas.

Warnings - age difference, m/f, penetration,

18+

The chill of the night air on her face was a welcome relief from the overwhelming noise of the packed tavern. Too many people was fine if you were working in a crowd, you could make a decent living from their pockets but when it came to socialising Leah preferred something a little more subdued. The Blushing Mermaid was anything but. She stumbled out into the darkness, quietly slipping away from the small group of friends that she had been drinking with when she saw a tiny speck of burning pipeweed glowed weakly in the darkness. Someone must have had the same idea and sought a little solitude on the bow of the ship that gave the dingy little grief hole its name.

“Who goes?” the smoker called out into the night. Wary of the intrusion. The night concealed the man like a cloak, only the small ember casting its meagre light lit his lips as he pulled the smoke into his lungs. “I'm not looking for company, so fuck off”

Leah smiled, recognising Rugans voice instantly “What's it to you, Zhent? I’ll go where I damn well please.” she slurred. She liked Rugan, he was a good laugh. They got along well on the rare occasions that their paths crossed. Though their respective organisations would not be too thrilled that they were on friendly terms.

“Sounds like someone had a good night!” he chuckled from his perch, “hows tricks, kid?” he hopped down from the table and headed towards the light of a flaming torch. The creaking of his leather armour was almost imperceptible as he passed her.

“Can’t complain. You?” She answered in a friendly tone as she followed him into the small ring of light. Rugan was smiling warmly, Gods that smile. He was fucking gorgeous. The bastard.

“Same shit different day, mate.” The light of the rolled pipeweed cigarette moved towards her in the dark as he offered Leah a drag. She took a long pull then handed it back, letting the smoke escape from her nose. “I'd ask you if you fancied a pint but I think you might have had enough.” he teased, watching her sway in the shadows.

“I'm not that drunk but I'm not going back in there, too many dickheads. Might just go home.”

“I’m headed that way. I’ll walk with you.” he spoke casually but he didn't like the thought of her walking through the docks at night drunk and alone.

“Alright but I am definitely not drunk enough to drop my knickers for you, Zhent. So don't even try.” she warned as she teetered towards the ramp that led down to the road.

“You wear knickers?” he ribbed, following along behind her, ready to catch her should she take a tumble.

“…metaphorical knickers,” she shrugged, eliciting a chuckle from her companion.

They walked back through the lower city toward Heapside Strand, chatting about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other's company as they slowly headed towards Leah's loft. Even breaking into song at one point much to the annoyance of the sleeping residents of the Lower City. They definitely didn’t want to hear “A wizard’s staff has a knob at the end” in the middle of the night. Finally they arrived at her door.

“Do you fancy a nightcap?” She slurred, leaning against the door fumbling with the keys as she tried and failed to find the keyhole.

“I shouldn't…shipping out at dawn,” he stepped closer, “but I want you to know, there is nothing I would like more.”

“Really?” she whispered, trying her very best to sound alluring. “Seems to me if you're that thirsty…you should drink.”

Their lips met softly, tentatively. Briefly. Rugan pulled away, “You are way too drunk for this,” he said with a rueful smile, “get yourself to bed. I’ll come find you when I get back.”

Leah groaned with disappointment “Oh come on…” she started to complain, losing her footing and taking a tumble into some crates. “Oww,” she sobbed dejectedly.

“Woah,” Rugan picked her up, “come here.” He shook his head with a smirk and took her door keys. He carried her up the narrow staircase and across the room to her bed, which was currently occupied by the fluffiest cat he had ever seen.

Leah turned to see him scratching Crumbs forehead. “Straight to the pussy…” she shook her head, chiding him mockingly.

“Well you know me, lass. I don’t waste time.” He smiled and shooed Crumbs from the bed.

Leah stared at him sleepily in the low light that emanated from a lantern she had forgotten to put out before she left. He was a handsome bastard. Strong and sweet in equal measure. “Stay,” she whispered, reaching out for him as he pulled off her boots and threw them onto the floor.

Rugan froze, mired in indecision. “You are in no fit state, little lady.” He said, full of regret as the words left his mouth, “and Nine Fingers will have my head - both of em.”

“I am a womanly woman, I will have you know! And just because I've had a drink doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions. Now get them pants off!”

He took off his boots and unbuckled his cuirass then climbed onto the bed. “You’ll be the death of me, Leah Keene. I swear.”

“Shut up,” she giggled softly as he settled between her thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him in for a kiss. Their tongues pressed and glided over each other in a sinuous dance, their kiss became more and more urgent as they stripped away the rest of their clothing. Rugan's mouth slid sloppily down her neck, dragging his soft lips to her tightened nipples. Her back arched and her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, urging him on with gasps and groans as he suckled gently on each. He began to move lower, aiming to use his skilled tongue on her aching clit but she clutched his hair and pulled him back to her lips. Her other hand reached for his stiff, dripping cock. Pressing the tip into her warmth impatiently. Rugan took the hint and dipped his hips, sheathing himself in her heat with a soul deep groan. Pulling out and slamming into her again and again as she moaned and cursed loudly beneath him. Clawing desperately at his muscular back as she tried to hold on to something as he destroyed her body and mind. Deep red trophies that he would later show off to his fellow Zhentarim.

Their sweat slicked bodies moved together, chasing the high. It coiled low in her belly, the prickly heat behind her trembling knees uncomfortably itchy. The pressure building until it consumed her in an aching release. Exhilarating and electrifying. She sobbed his name lustily into the night as she shuddered with pleasure as the walls of her cunt rhythmically fluttered around his dick.

Leah trembled beneath him, coming down from her peak, breathless and glowing. “Give me a minute,” she pleaded, flinching from overstimulation every time he moved.

Rugan reined himself in not without difficulty. Leaning to claim her lips in a lingering kiss that threatened to become so much more.

He pulled himself up to his knees and looked down upon her, gloriously messy and dishevelled. Her beautiful tits heaving with every breath.

His hands slid down her narrow waist, pulling her hips into his, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt. Her moan sending a thrill straight through him.

“Yes…” she gasped quietly, covering his hands with hers.

He pulled out, repeating his last stroke. Slowly building up speed as he used her to pump his cock. Absolute filth poured from her lips between ragged screams of exhilarated desperation. It was all too much for him.

“Ugh… I’m gonna come” he groaned, warning her of his imminent release, “Leah…oh Gods!”

“Do it! Do it!” Leah looked down between them watching his cock as he fucked her. “Don’t stop, I need it…” she threw her head back with a rapturous groan, clenching tightly around his thick cock as she came for him.

Rugan wanted to pull out, he really did but…fuck it.

Every fibre of his being tensed, deliciously teetering on the edge before following her down deep into complete bliss. It was over far too fast. He slumped into the crook of her neck, breathless and shuddering and a little bit sad.

Leah ghosted her fingertips up and down his back as came to. “You alright?” She asked, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Yeah…that was...” He raised himself up on shaky arms, “better than I imagined.”

“Than you imagined?” She teased gently. “Do you think about this a lot?”

“There were nights I'd go to sleep thinking about this, out there on the road,” he confessed in a soft whisper, his cock still sheathed within her delicate walls. “What it would feel like to have Leah Keene wrapped around my dick.”

She gasped “Rugan! You're old enough to be my…” Leah caught a fit of the giggles. “My…”

“Don’t you dare say it!” He chuckled along with her.

She sniggered and raised her hands cupping his stubbly cheeks and trying to kiss him with taught smiling lips.

Rugan turned his face in faux petulance, “Nah. No kisses for you.”

“Aww no! I prefer older men, Roogs. Someone my age couldn’t fuck me like you just did.” Her palms slid down to his hairy chest, “I just got railed.”

“Yeah, you did,” he pressed his forehead to hers, “and if you're not careful it’ll happen again, little girl.”

Leah squealed with delight “Is that a threat or a promise?”

A heavy silence laced with affection settled over them both and Rugan lowered his lips to hers. Barely feeling the tickle of their mingled breath before the gulls squabbling outside rudely interrupted. He turned to see a sliver of light cutting its way through the gap in the shutters.

“Ugh,” Rugan groaned, “I'm late!”

He hopped out of bed and grabbed his trousers, pulling them on, “I’ve gotta go, princess. Zarys will have my balls.”

Leah turned on her side and watched him dress, mourning the loss of his perfect body, “I thought she already had em,” she jabbed with a smile. “I heard she keeps em in a little pouch round her neck, gives em a little jiggle when she wants you - it’s got tinkly little bells on it.”

“Very funny,” he retorted sarcastically, “You’ve sobered up quick.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he buckled his belt.

Leah shrugged, smirking as she held his gaze. “I might have exaggerated a bit,”

“We’ll have words about this, young lady. Just you wait.” He gave her a quick kiss then jogged down the stairs. It would be a good long while before she saw him again and when she did her whole life had been turned upside down.

#bg3 rugan #rugan #rugan bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #archive of our own #rugan/oc #zhentarim #my wriitng

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even-disco-baby · 2 years

Note

Suggestion/request if you need any, maybe Kim and Jean talking after Kim joins Precinct 41?

PERCEPTION (Hearing) [Medium: Success] — Wait. You can hear voices just outside the window. Familiar voices. If you concentrate, you can just make out what they’re saying through the pitifully thin glass.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “…smoke Drouins, too?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’m giving them a try.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Oh, *hell* yeah. You should go join them for a smoke.

SUGGESTION — Or… hang around by the window for a minute or two first.

YOU — What? Why?

SUGGESTION — Oh, come on, Harry. Aren’t you a *little* curious about what those two talk about when you’re not around?

INLAND EMPIRE — You don’t want to know. Don’t even think about it. Lock that thought away with her letter and anything else that might hurt you.

YOU — Isn’t it wrong to eavesdrop?

SUGGESTION — You’re not eavesdropping, you’re just getting a breath of fresh air by the window! It’s not *your* fault that your two closest friends also just so happened to be having a smoke right outside the same window. The precinct is public property, anyway. If this was a private conversation, wouldn’t they have it on *private* property?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I think you’re confusing private ownership with privacy.

SUGGESTION — Oh, look, a new copotype. Grammar Cop.

They’re my friends, so I should respect their privacy. (Step away from the window)

They’re my friends, so they wouldn’t be talking about anything they wouldn’t talk to *me* about, right? (Eavesdrop)

INLAND EMPIRE — You’re too trusting. So are they, it seems. You’re going to be the death of each other, someday.

PERCEPTION (Hearing) [Easy: Success] — You casually lean against the wall beside the window, sipping water from the cooler and listening to the muffled voices outside.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…late nights?”

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Everyone here works late. I’m sure you’ve noticed. But Jude and Trant have kids to look after…”

EMPATHY — He’s got nobody. That’s something you and he have always had in common.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “This late, it’s usually just me and Harry.” He pauses, perhaps to take a drag from his cigarette. “…And you?” He asks more than says it.

KIM KITSURAGI — “And me.” His voice is flat and quiet.

EMPATHY — He’s got nobody, too.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — Another long pause. You can see Jean’s hand suddenly come into view through the glass.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] — Don’t panic! He’s just flicking the ash from his cigarette. See, it’s fine. If you’d flinched, they might have seen you.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “How’s the Drouin?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Not bad. I might make the switch.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Ha. I like them better than Astras, but most people disagree.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He gives a noncommittal sort of hum, nothing more.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Any reason for the switch?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Just wanted to try something new,” he says lightly.

DRAMA — A lie if I ever heard one, sire.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Astras remind him of Martinaise. Of loneliness. Smokers on rooftops and balconies and in traffic jams. A corpse on the boardwalk. A corpse that could have been *you.*

-1 MORALE

INLAND EMPIRE — I told you not to listen.

SUGGESTION — No, no, surely if you listen long enough, you’ll hear something *good* about yourself.

Walk away.

Keep listening.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “…Can I ask you an unprofessional question?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He hesitates, just briefly. “I suppose.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Why the hell did you agree to transfer here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re glad to have you.” A pause. “Well, more like we were totally fucked without you.” Another pause. “Okay, we’re still fucked, just less fucked. But you could have stayed at the harbor and *not* been fucked.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — If only there was as much fucking going on around here as he makes it sound.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Hm… I suppose I could have.” He pauses for a smoke. “But I think that the 41st will be… more important in the grand scheme of things than the G.R.I.H.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — “UN JOUR SERAI DE RETOUR PRÈS DE TOI.” Whatever is coming, he feels it’s going to come here first.

KIM KITSURAGI — “And like I said, I’ve been wanting to try something new.” You can almost hear the smile in those words.

DRAMA — But they are still not entirely truthful. Oh, he *does* long for something new. That part was the truth, sire. But he won’t find it here. Deep down, he knows it. And there you find the lie he tells himself over and over again, every day he reports for duty.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — “Nulla sarà cambiato della luce.” Nothing will be changed about the light. Nothing will ever be changed…

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — Silence falls, so lengthy that you almost think that they must have finished their cigarettes and started their way back. And then—

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “I thought maybe it had something to do with the shitkid.”

COMPOSURE — To call the following silence “loaded” would be a massive understatement.

YOU — Oh… I don’t know if I want to hear this…

INLAND EMPIRE — Leave now. Please, just leave.

SUGGESTION — Stay! They care about you, that’s what they’re going to say!

INLAND EMPIRE — That’s what makes it all so sad.

Spare yourself.

Stay.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…And if it did?” His voice is calm, like deep, still water.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Then I was going to warn you not to bet everything on a losing dog.” His voice is calm, too. That’s what hurts the most. “You haven’t known Harry long enough to see the pendulum swing the other way. And it *will* swing, Lieutenant. It’ll happen right when you start to think that maybe it won’t. And then things will get uglier than you ever thought possible.”

DRAMA — …He isn’t lying, sire. Nor is he trying to intimidate the lieutenant. He believes every word he’s saying.

YOU — Wait, so then… then it’s true? All the progress I’ve made… is it worthless?

INLAND EMPIRE — Nulla sará cambiato…

VOLITION — No. He’s waiting for the past to repeat itself. But it doesn’t have to, Harry. At least, not always in the same way. Don’t lose hope.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “…I’m not trying to be cruel.” His voice suddenly softens. Saddens. “I just don’t want you to end up with regrets. There’s no fixing that guy, Kim. People have tried.”

EMPATHY — *He* has tried. And for his troubles, he’s had all sorts of cruelties hurled at him. Humiliation, abuse, betrayal. Broken promise after broken promise. He’s almost exhausted any hope he ever had.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Almost, but not quite. That’s what hurts him the most.

-1 MORALE

INLAND EMPIRE — You’ll die at this rate.

VOLITION — Why are you doing this to yourself? Their words are not ironclad truth. You don’t need their permission to live. And you *definitely* don’t need to hurt yourself like this.

SUGGESTION — It doesn’t matter. You don’t have a choice anymore. You *need* to hear this.

Stay.

KIM KITSURAGI — An uncomfortable shuffle of nylon can be heard, even through the window. “…I appreciate your concern,” he says stiffly. And that’s *all* he says.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He knows he doesn’t sound like he means it, but he does. And he also knows that Vicquemare will be embarrassed, maybe even hurt, by the curt response. But he can’t think of a single word to say.

EMPATHY — It’s hard for him to face people head on like this. It’s easier when he has something to hide behind. Like you and your antics.

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — A long sigh. You’re not sure whose it is.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — And then you see Jean’s hand toss his cigarette butt into the grass. “Well, who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re some kind of miracle worker. I mean, two of you apparently *attract* miracles. You know, with your pheromones.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “He wasn’t talking about *our*… khm. Actually, never mind. Let’s not start the cryptid thing again.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Yeah, let’s not.” He sounds a little gruff as he says it.

EMPATHY — He is sad that no miracle ever happened for him, and angry that it came for someone else at all. But most of all, it hurts him that your miracle was someone else.

YOU — I’m sorry for forgetting…

EMPATHY — Forgetting what?

The things he did for me.

The things I did to him.

Why I am the way I am.

All of it.

EMPATHY — He can’t hear you, Harry.

VOLITION — There’s no point in being sorry for how everything played out. Your relationships with them, your sobriety, the case, the Insulindian miracle— all of it is as much a product of circumstance as anything else. A matter of who was in the right place at the right time. All you can do now is choose what to do with what came of it.

That is why they’ve run out of things to say now. They are sad and uncertain, but they have chosen to carry that. What do you choose?

To tell them I don’t need their fucking pity.

To be sorry all the same.

To distance them from me before the pendulum swings.

To make sure they never leave me alone to die.

I don’t know. I want to do what’s right, but I don’t know what that looks like.

VOLITION — None of us really do, Harry. Just do your best.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…I’m not trying to fix him.” His words come out clunky and awkward. Sudden, as if he said them against his better judgment.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — “Uh huh.” He sounds doubtful.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant clears his throat. “That is to say… I believe he can get better. He *is* getting better. But I don’t think… Well, let’s call it a… a chronic problem.” He clears his throat again, clearly uncomfortable.

EMPATHY — It’s hard for him to say that he doesn’t think you’ll ever put it all behind you. It makes him feel callous.

KIM KITSURAGI — “But… I think that’s all right. We all have things we simply have to learn to live with. But we do live with them. And I think he’s getting better at living with… with everything,” he finishes, trying to put it as delicately as possible. “That is all I can ask of him.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Maybe someday, he’ll tell you and Jean about all the things he has learned to live with, and the times when he very nearly didn’t. But not today.

JEAN VICQUEMARE — You hear the click of a lighter. Another cigarette. “…I see. Well, if he’s made any progress, he probably owes it to you.” He makes a valiant effort to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

KIM KITSURAGI — “No,” he says quietly, “I don’t think so. I think… Well, it doesn’t really matter what I think.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — A freshly cleaned room. A little girl come in from the cold. A handkerchief pressed into the hands of a working class woman. A wall with the words “I LOVE YOU CUNO” painted in giant red letters. Dancing ecstatically around a hole in the world. He remembers it all, but he is at a loss for the words to explain the true miracle of it all. He wishes that Jean could have seen it and understood.

YOU — So do I…

#disco elysium #jean vicquemare #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #requests #anon #THANK YOU FOR THIS ONE I RLLY ENJOYED IT…#jean and kim are so. interesting.#since kim is smth of a wish fulfillment fantasy for the suicidal #and jean is like… well more like the nightmare scenario ksbsjdnc of someone who you’ve managed to push to the breaking point #but who still cares about you and that’s the most painful part #so i imagine jean and kim’s dynamic to be a little tense w a slight resentment from each of them #where kim dislikes how vitriolic jean can be but also understands where it’s coming from and even feels a little guilty abt the situation #and jean is legit hurt that his friendship w harry (sort of) withstood so many years of harry being an asshole #but didn’t seem to make any difference to harry #and then in walks kim who’s just Some Guy and suddenly harry is cleaning himself up for him #but he knows that’s not fair and he genuinely likes kim so he’s just like. *miserably befriends you*#and then on top of that the case in martinaise is starting to crack through kim’s resignation to being a cop #but jean is so… well idk if anything will ever get through his resignation tbh.#‘’there is nothing more in that beloved future of yours. we are all done there. done and gone.’’#so yeah. lots of tension between them and lots of thoughts that kim can’t bring himself to share w jean which only makes the tension worse

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viiixs · 10 months

Note

some flying guillotine hcs??

silly mischievous man x silent man

(opt) how would they interact with requiem 👀

- ✨💅

General Flying Guillotine HCS

— XTRA; meeting and interactions with REQUIEM

!! warning – mentions of corpses, smoking, blood

« HCS »

» Flying Guillotine is a very feared name in China Town, you never know when They’ll appear and when They do, its often said to not get in their way nor rat them out. if you’re feeling a little too adventurous for your own safety, perhaps you’ll have to wish your prayers of love will reach your family and loved ones before you meet your end. They’re said to be the Nightmare of China Town.

» They both work under Lady Thirteen, The China Town Beauty, as Her Hit men. They would do anything just to clear the speck of dirt in Her name, whether if They had to get their hands bloodied up in the process. Lady Thirteen was a mere celebrity in China Town, seen as perfect and Elegant. yet who knew that She would actually be their Boss?

» They work for Lady Thirteen as a way to repay her for what she has done for them in the past. It was during a difficult time in both their Lives and ever since then, They started to work for Her. yet theres a small rumor that spread like wildfire, that Flying Guillotine is trying to find Lady Thirteen and Hurt her. Many Residents of the Town have feared and prayed for that Rumour to be nothing more but a false narrative that was created just for a scare. yet who knows? no one knows the true intentions of Flying Guillotine and their main goal in the first place, not even Lady Thirteen herself in that matter.

…………………

» starting off strong with their dynamic being absolutely like a cat and dog one. you have FG!Wujiu whose just tired + no energy while FG!Bi’an has tons of energy.

» during off days, Bi’an would usually ask Wujiu if He’s up to check some places in the area, relax in the Tea-House or have a nice game of cards. Wujiu would usually (mostly) say yes, but in some cases He would just be too tired.

» Flying Guillotine are smokers, if you couldn’t tell. They would usually smoke to cool off some steam and thats about it, well, there would be some occasions where They would just want to smoke for no reason or they just feel like it.

» if cigarettes aren’t available, they would usually just lay around in the Tea-House to drink Tea or to grab a bite. Fan Wujiu usually opts for something filling while Xie Bi’an chooses something light. They usually use it as their resting place during closing hours since it’ll just cause havoc if they come in during working hours, besides, Lady Thirteen owns the place. so another reason would be so they could discuss business with Her.

» when doing actual business per se, They usually tend to avoid public spaces as it’ll just lead to more suspicion. imagine going to the market just to get some fruit, and you just see an unconscious body right infront of you. either way, not really pleasant.

» If they have no choice whatsoever, They’d usually clean up the evidence (or atleast try to) when they have the time. if the blood is way too cemented on the ground, They usually just leave it be. sure, it can still hold suspicion which contradicts to their actual plan, but atleast its not a literal body.

» Their Missions usually go smoothly, until a certain distraction has been showing up.

» It was no other than Requiem. Requiem and Flying Guillotine are in no good terms. Their bosses, True Proof and Lady Thirteen has also some vendetta against eachother aswell, which lead to a rivarly between the two groups. so maybe that also adds onto that.

» Their meetings are pure coincidences. if they do happen to meet, It’ll just be laced with pure annoyance with a spat exchange of words.

» maybe a glare, maybe a side eye, who knows. Their Interactions with the pair have always been Limited due to their respective Missions. They could maybe get into good terms, yes. but with how things are happening, its doubtful. but not impossible.

NOTE: GETS DOWN ON MY KNEES

ANNNNOOONNN IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO MAKE THIS SOB SOB, I PROMUSE IT WAS ON MY MIND I JUST KEPT PROCRASTINATING. ITS ON ME.

anyway hi im sorry for not posting for like a monrh or something writers block got me feeling different, and also because i should tell myself to stop adding scenarios/fanfics to almost all my requests when i see fit. because it definitely slows down my pace when it comes to writing. anyway!!

i also apologize if this was? idk prettu bland or its not what you’re wanting, anon. but i really had nothing in mind and just… went with it.

i’m also super happy requiem is finally getting a little more attention. since last time when i wrote here (2021?) He barely had anything. so its very nice since hes my fav wu chang skin! :3

also, i do still have some more guillotine headcanons i didnt add. for instance, i headcanon Wujiu usually asks Bi’an to help braid his hair and stuff like that. but this’ll suffice. (hopefully)

#identity v #identity v headcanons #idv scenarios #idv wu chang #identity v wu chang #wu chang #skin hcs #xie bian #fan wujiu #identity v imagines

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